


To Be a King

by Lady_Arrowwood, RadiantSeraphina (Lady_Arrowwood)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: And the Hylians are kind of the bad guys, F/F, F/M, FtM Transgender, Nor played for laughs, The transgender person is not the villain, well most of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/Lady_Arrowwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/RadiantSeraphina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Tumblr post by: happyasssalesman:</p><p>"Guys, consider this though.</p><p>Gerudo mom gives birth to another female child but that child discovers that he’s a trans man and grows up to be the next Gerudo king."</p><p>Maybe something like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be a King

Anahita, my mother’s lover, was the keeper of stories. She knew the story of how the Goddess of the Sands formed her people from the sand and sunlight. She knew the story of how a jealous (probably Hylian) sorceress cursed the Gerudo to bear a son only once a century and how the Gerudo turned their curse into a blessing. She knew the stories of all the noble Gerudo queens, of the great architects who built our fortress, and of the great sorceresses. As a child, I liked to sit at her feet, on silken pillows, and listen to her. I could listen for hours, her voice as soothing as an oasis, and Anahita was always ready for an audience.

 

Anahita looked like most Gerudo, with dark skin, golden eyes, and red hair, but she was shorter than most of us and her nose not as long and sharp as everyone else's. Too much Hylian in her blood. Some Sheikah, too. I leaned my head on her knee, while she stroked my hair. When I was very young, I liked to talk with Anahita more than my own mother. My mother was practical, above all else, and analytical. She loved me, but she had neither the patience nor the desire to tell me stories. Anahita did, no matter what I wanted, and she never treated me like a child.

 

I liked the stories about wars best, or the stories of brave, Gerudo kings. For a long time, they were merely stories, but as I grew older—maybe nine or ten—I noticed that those stories usually involved Hylian armies being gloriously slaughtered. It didn’t bother me because I was young, and everyone _knew_ the Hylians hated us. Why did it matter, if they were always killed in the stories? Better them than us. And at that age, I was already a warrior at heart and ready to face anyone—Hylian, Sheikah, Goron, or Zora—that dared to challenge me. But I was curious. We never had stories about killing Gorons. “Anahita, what about the Hylians?” I asked.

 

“The Hylians?” Anahita asked. “What about them, Tara?”

 

“Why are all the stories about killing them?”

 

“Oh.”

 

Anahita looked thoughtful a moment. I didn’t know it, as a child, but I'd asked her an incredibly difficult question. She must’ve been struggling to think of a way to explain it all. A way to explain centuries of distrust and anger, a way to explain the differences. A way to explain the Triforce of Wisdom, which King Daphnes claimed was a sign from the Goddesses, a sign that he was meant to rule everyone and everything. “Our feud with Hyrule is a very long one. Many centuries ago,” Anahita said, “There was a Gerudo king named Ganondorf, and above all else, he wanted to help the Gerudo. He wanted more for us than empty desert fortresses and burning sands. So he prayed to the Goddess of the Sands, to show him the most beautiful place in the world, so we could settle there. After some time, the Goddess granted his wish, and he saw it—a kingdom, lush and green. He saw a place with forests and rivers, with crystal water. It seemed like the Sacred Realm to him, and he knew that he must bring it to his people. So he followed the star, Din’s crown, and travelled to this land. When he saw it, he dropped to his knees, and the stories say that he wept, for it was so beautiful. But there was a problem. This land belonged to another people already.”

 

“Hyrule,” I breathed.

 

“That’s right. He saw Hyrule, and he saw the Hylians. Still, Ganondorf was no monster. In those days, the Hylians knew little about us, and we knew little about them. So King Ganondorf observed the Hylians, and he discovered that they were vain, thankless, and greedy creatures. They were cowardly and hateful, yet they had the most beautiful land Ganondorf had ever beheld. And his heart ached, at the thought of his beautiful people, the courageous Gerudo, struggling in the desert. He fought the Hylians, but he underestimated them. They were cunning, and they ensnared him with spells that corrupted his heart. They made him a monster and encouraged even his own people to fight against him.”

 

Anahita let out a long sigh. “He was defeated, and we were driven more into the desert than ever before. And since, things have become worse. The current king of Hyrule is a cruel and cunning man. Every day, he expands his borders a little more.”

 

“Do you think he’ll come here?” I asked.

 

“No,” she said. “I think not. We have nothing he wants. Hylians do not understand that the desert holds many wondrous and valuable things, and as long as he does not realize that, we are safe, little warrior.”

 

And for many years, we were. I grew up, behind the fortress walls and in the seas of golden sand, away from the king of Hyrule. Whispers of him, carried by traders, reached our ears. _He’s gone mad_ , they said. _He’s looking for something. He’s taking children from their homes._

Looking back, I should’ve seen the glances Anahita and my mother exchanged. I should’ve heard the elders’ whispers, but I was only thirteen. I was a warrior, and I cared only for promises of future glory. I cared nothing for politics or Hylians. I cared only for being the strongest and the best. There was just one problem; I wasn’t like them.

 

I didn’t know why, but I knew I was different. There was something inside me, some strange desire or thought that I was _wrong_ somehow. That I was something else. It’s surreal, sometimes, to describe what you feel because feelings don’t make a lot of sense. Not really. But there was something different about me, something indescribable, and it itched, like a snake ready to shed its skin. I was different, and I didn’t know why. I intended to tell my mother and Anahita, but every time I tried, the words caught in my throat. I simply didn’t have the words to explain it. Besides, what could they say? The elders would say it was simply an adolescent fancy that would pass, but they were wrong. I  _knew_ they were wrong, and I couldn't explain why.

 

* * *

 

 

One night, we sat outside our chambers, beneath the full moon and cool air, and my mother whispered about architecture. She told me about the ramparts, about the bricks that made the walls, and the vaulting on the rooftops. Anahita settled beside her and kissed my mother’s neck. “My love, little warrior,” Anahita greeted.

 

Though I wasn’t so little anymore. “Leila had her baby,” Mother said.

 

“Was it a boy?” Anahita inquired.

 

“A boy?” I asked.

 

“No,” Mother said.

 

“Why would it be a boy?” I inquired.

 

“Because the hundred years passed, and there’s not yet been a boy born to the Gerudo,” Anahita explained.

 

“Really?”

 

I’d had no idea that we should be expecting one. There had been fewer babies of late, anyway, since King Daphnes had mostly forbidden trade with the Gerudo Desert, and there were less men to take as mates. “Yes, the century passed around the time you were born,” Anahita said. “We expected you to be a boy.”

 

“Not that we especially cared,” Mother said. “I just wanted a healthy baby, so I got what I wanted.”

 

I smiled at her and rubbed my cheek against my mother’s shoulder. I was born at the time, when there should’ve been a boy, a future king to the Gerudo. No one else was born that year, only me. So why hadn’t I been born as a boy? Had the curse run out? Or was I a mistake? Was that why I felt my skin crawl like it did—because my body wasn’t right? I didn’t know. I’d never even seen a man before; I only knew what they looked like from illustrations in books. How could I be something I’d never seen before?

 

The conversation played in my mind, as I prepared to go on my first raid. It wasn’t even really a proper raid; it was a group of five Hylians that had ventured into the desert. Probably criminals. The king had taken to exiling them to our home, but we didn’t have the power to stop him. My horse shifted on her hooves, waiting for my mother’s call to go ahead. Five of them and five of us. It should be simple.

 

My mother drew her scimitar and waved it above her head. Normally, we raided at night, but these Hylians had ventured too close to our fortress. With a fierce yell, my mother urged her horse into a gallop. My mother was great at that. People had frozen with fear, at the mere sight and sound of her, as she dove into battle. I rode my horse, guarding her flank, and it was _glorious_ , the threat of battle. I was _built_ for this, for charging into battle and brandishing my blade.

 

We were on the Hylians quickly. The three men had formed a circle around a woman. She was cloaked entirely in violet, but I could see the shape of her breasts, beneath her cloak. In front of her, sat a smaller, cloaked figure. We didn’t attack outright. We merely surrounded them and waited. “What is the meaning of this?” one of the men asked. “How dare you threaten us?”

 

They all wore cloaks, but I could see their features still—the wide, blue eyes, the sand-white hair, and the pale skin. _So_ Hylian, and it was fascinating. It was like staring at a venomous snake and standing in awe of its teeth. The only thing I couldn’t see were the famous long ears that I’d heard so much about. “Threaten you?” my mother asked, laughing brashly. “ _You_ , jinnling, are the one who has invaded _our_ home. Give us your valuables, and we’ll let you live, provided you return to Hyrule.”

 

“We cannot return to Hyrule,” the woman said, “Until we are certain that our pursuers have lost our trail.”

 

The woman raised her arms and pushed her hood back onto her shoulders. Her blue eyes were bright with defiance, made more apparent by the long scar running down her face; she must’ve nearly lost her eye to that. Finally, I saw those famous ears, long like a desert hare’s. She had small, blue loops in hers; earrings were the mark of a warrior among our tribe. Perhaps, she was a warrior, also. That was strange; I'd never heard of a Hylian woman fighting. They left that to their men. My mother tapped her chin with the tip of her scimitar and kept her face carefully neutral. “So you’ve brought your pursuers into _our_ lands. How very _generous_ of you,” she drawled. 

 

“May I speak to you, privately?” the Hylian lady inquired.

 

Mother waved a hand towards the rest of us. “Whatever you have to say, can be spoken to all of us,” she said.

 

“My Lady,” one of the men said, “You can’t _possibly_ tell _them_ about it!”

 

“We are in their lands, Sir Roderick. We owe them an explanation.”

 

The lady dismounted her horse suddenly, and the smaller figure called out in surprise. “Stay steady, dear one,” the lady said.

 

“Your child?” Mother inquired.

 

“Yes,” the lady answered. “Are you a mother yourself?”

 

My mother nodded abruptly. “Then, you must understand. Mothers would do anything to protect their children, wouldn’t they? We are fleeing the king’s men. He is taking children from their homes, in search of the Hero.”

 

“The Hero?” Anahita inquired. “Do you honestly believe in such things?”

 

The woman’s eyes hardened. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the king does, and I will not have my child taken from me. No matter what the king is willing to pay.”

 

The Hylian woman took a step towards my mother, and a man stepped closer to her. There was something about how he looked that I liked, that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from, even though most of his body was obscured by the mail. There was something—just some, unexplainable thing, that made my skin itch. And I thought. _That’s it. That’s it._

“It’s fine,” the lady said, putting a hand on the man’s forearm. “I am willing to give you what little I have, but I ask only for permission to wander the desert for a few more days. The king’s men are cowards and will not dare venture here.”

 

My mother seemed to consider this for a moment. Soraya, her second-in-command, exchanged a glance with her. “I don’t especially care what you believe. It doesn’t really matter,” the Hylian woman said, “But you have surely heard of our king. The Princess Zelda bears the Triforce of Wisdom—”

 

“A myth,” my mother said.

 

“So you say,” the woman said, “But even so, he has gained much power from such a claim, hasn’t he?”

 

“True enough,” my mother replied.

 

My mother dismounted her horse and held out her fist. After several moments’ hesitation, the Hylian lady made a fist, too, and bumped it against my mother’s. “You may speak privately with me, provided Anahita joins us. She is the most knowledgeable about Hylian lore.”

 

The Hylian lady glanced around, likely trying to figure out which of us was Anahita. “May I come?” I asked.

 

Mother shook her head. “No, I need some to stay with them,” she answered, nodding to the Hylians.

 

I was a little hurt, but I only nodded. Anahita dismounted, too, and together, they walked away with the Hylian lady, amidst the men’s protests and the lady’s dismissive waves. I didn’t know what they spoke about; when I asked later, Mother refused to tell me.

 

I watched the men. They seemed anxious about the lady being with my mother and Anahita, but they remained around the small figure on the horse. I liked watching the men; there was something enticing and foreign about them, something in the shape that I liked and wanted. But I didn’t know how or why.

 

After several minutes, the Hylian woman returned, my mother and Anahita behind her. My mother mounted her horse, while the Hylian lady gathered up her ragged skirts and mounted behind her child. Anahita lingered a moment, before striding back to her mare. “They’ve paid their toll,” my mother announced. “Let them pass, unharmed.”

 

The Gerudo women exchanged a few startled glances, but they wouldn’t question her before strangers. “Thank you,” the Hylian lady said. “We shall never forget your great kindness. We are indebted to you, and someday, I hope we may return such mercy and generosity as you’ve shown us.”

 

“I do not hold much faith in the Hylian goddesses,” my mother said, “But if what you say is true, I hope you’ll remember that _my_ people helped you flee from _yours_.”

 

The Hylian woman inclined her head slightly. “We shall,” the woman answered, “And though it means little to you, I hope the Goddesses smile upon you. In three days, we’ll be gone, and we’ll bother you no more.”

 

My mother nodded and steered her horse around, making it clear that the conversation was over. Immediately, I spurred my horse to her side. Mother inclined her head towards me. “Something important, Tara,” she said. “Remember that the Hylians have a way of creating and building up people, to suit their needs.”

 

“Alright,” I said, confused.

 

“You shouldn’t have let them go so easily. They wouldn’t have spared us,” Soraya cut in.

 

“Perhaps not,” Mother conceded, “But we can’t know, so there’s little point in thinking about it.”

 

Soraya still didn’t look pleased, but she wouldn’t argue with Mother. Mother was the closest thing we had to a king; she was a queen. I looked at my mother, proud and regal, with her taunt stomach muscles and still-firm breasts. I looked at her long, hawk-like nose, her kohl-rimmed eyes, and her voluminous hair. Beautiful. People said my mother was beautiful and that I would be beautiful, too. Like her. And maybe I was selfish, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to share my mother’s beauty. I didn’t want to be _beautiful_. Not like her, with the sensuous curves that made the Gerudo so famous. I didn’t want to be another woman, in a tribe of women. I wanted to be something _else_.

 

I wanted to be a man. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. Why couldn’t I _be_ a man? Wasn’t I born at the time, when the Gerudo were supposed to have their promised king? Wasn’t I fierce and brave and determined, like the Gerudo kings in the stories? Couldn’t I look out for the Gerudo—maybe, when I was a little wiser, but didn’t I want the best for them? Of course, I did, and I knew that I had a good chance of succeeding my mother as queen, when she died. But why be content with being a _queen_ , when I could be a king?

 

You might think that my body would be a good reason for why I couldn’t be, but I’d learned to be stubborn. I’d learned to reach for the impossible. I would be the next king of the Gerudo because while I had a woman’s body, I was _meant_ to be a man.

**Author's Note:**

> So I am more or less pleased with how this first chapter turned out. My only worry is that I didn't, maybe, go in-depth enough with it, so I'm hoping to correct that in future chapters. At any rate, I value everyone's comments and reviews. Thank you for reading.
> 
> On another note, I'm still looking for a beta, if anyone wants to volunteer. Feel free to drop by a message.


End file.
